Strings Ch. 02

I had no sexual opportunities through my work, no fuck buddies or interest in prostitutes and had never been comfortable in the British meat market scene. I faced a bleak loveless and sexless future of boring wankdom, so even memories of the Japanese wanking cube seemed erotic. Coupled with no income or banter it wasn't exactly paradise.

My field of operations for entertainment had shrunk from intercontinental to my local pub, but actually a good bunch of friends semi permanently inhabited The Royal Oak local. They were mostly guys and mostly working class lovers of beer, televised sports and assorted illegal substances, but among the handful of women was Kerry. She was married to Jim who worked shifts as an engineer in central London, but Jim disliked pubs as much as Kerry loved partying. She also detested being alone when Jim was on nights, so Kerry was a funny, often inebriated regular in The Royal Oak.

I got on well with her and along with others had been invited back to her place for all night drinking binges, and the odd joint. I nearly always enjoyed the parties and deeply regretted the hangovers.

On one busy football evening in the Oak, with a lot of friends around I forgot my worries and enjoyed myself. Kerry was socialising easily too, she was very funny, sarcastic and self deprecating. She was also imbibing large glasses of white wine, so much so that towards the end of the evening she was quite drunk and asked me to take her home. At that moment I was chatting to Michael, a sixty something bachelor with a liking for 'young girls' - (I think he meant women in their twenties but most women including Kerry were uneasy in his presence). He seized the opportunity to help half carry Kerry home.

At her kitchen she changed the colour of her poison and poured everyone red wine, and in a slurred monologue bemoaned her life, with Michael consoling her with fake care and hugs. We talked and drank more wine and Michael railed about being accosted by schoolgirls in the supermarket and how if he had behaved that way it would have been construed as sexual assault. Kerry had recovered from her earlier doziness and walked behind the breakfast bar chair I sat on. Facing him she said to Michael, 'Did they touch you like this,' and startled me as she leaned over my shoulder and massaged my chest with both hands. 'Or like this,' she said as she stretched one arm down my front and her hand grabbed my groin.

I was as astonished as Michael, but we resumed drinking till Kerry went dozy again and I suggested to him that at 2am it was time to leave. We let ourselves out as our hostess had fallen asleep with her head flopped onto the breakfast bar. At the nearby crossroads we went our different ways but a couple of minutes later I doubled back. Michael had dutifully gone home so I returned to Kerry's and re-entered her kitchen.

I let myself in, she was still slumped over the breakfast bar and patting her shoulder gently I woke her up, asking if she was okay. Kerry quickly recovered her composure and was soon organising music and more glasses of red wine. As I leaned against a kitchen counter she stood in front of me and said she had never seen me so relaxed as I was in the pub earlier. And then she kissed me.

We made out in the kitchen and moved to her living room. She put on some music and went to get more drinks from the kitchen, returning in a breast clinging thin black dressing gown. She unbuttoned my shirt and stroked my chest, and then after cupping OG through my jeans she undid my belt, opened my flies and levered my cock out from my pants. Soon I was stripped naked, whilst her voluptuous curves remained strained within her dressing gown, I had never been undressed before by a still 'clothed' woman. Now I understood the eroticism of CFNM (Clothed Female Naked Male). She didn't remain covered for long though as her large breasts and bum were liberated and off we went.

That was the first time we had sex, and this occurred a couple more times with one notable failure.

My party piece in the bedroom had become cunnilingus and I suggested / boasted to Kerry that I could be the one to give her the first orgasm by that means. We were back in her living room, she in her sexy black dressing gown again and me soon stripped by her. We drunk Hardy's Crest white wine with music playing as I proceeded to my task.

She lay on her back on the sofa, her long black hair spread out on the cushions either side of her head. Her eyes were closed, her red lips pursed, she stretched her arms out and those large breasts moved apart. Finally she spread her thighs open before me as I knelt on the carpet.

Her 'Lily' was unshaved but trimmed, I licked and separated her folded labia and began. Kerry tasted fresh and clean and got wet soon enough, she was mostly quiet and still, only occasionally did she moan or move to my attentions. But she couldn't quite get there. I listened to the music as I lapped and after a while began to count the tracks. We got to seven before I finally surrendered in my vain attempt to make Kerry cum with my exhausted tongue, which along with my back ached with the effort

Our affair, that she called our 'little liaison' lasted a couple of months, based around Jim's shift pattern and our copious alcohol consumption.

I surprised myself with how untroubled I was about a married woman desiring a clandestine affair with me, but later, on reflection I was more uncomfortable knowing the husband and our activities stopped, with one more exception.

A young and strong Irish Traveller had been knocking back pints for some time in The Royal Oak. He knew Kerry and another mutual friend, Colin.

Soon after I arrived the Irishman came up to me as I chatted to Kerry, he was handsome guy, tall and well built, his name was Pat. He talked about his boxing and then out of the blue said, 'Do you want to fight me?'

The pub was crowded and no one but Kerry and myself heard the challenge, and I joked something stupid in reply, but he was serious and repeated the challenge.

That week my road running had taken its toll and I had strained my lower back again. I had a habit of standing with my spine slightly arched and supporting it with one hand behind my back.

'What you got behind your back?' he demanded.

I started to reply, 'nothing at all...' When Kerry interrupted.

'He's got a bad back.'

Why do women try to defend a bloke by undermining his physical prowess in the eyes of the potential assailant?

So I made another jokey remark, hoping to diffuse him, and it only made him more menacing, and he accused me of 'Talking with your rubber mouth.'

Ho hum, I had to wake up a bit, calm the situation and extricate myself well away from my ex-amateur heavy weight boxing chum. I got away and kept away from him, spending the rest of the evening chatting to other mates about football or formula one. On the other side of the pub Pat continued drinking and rolling around from one conversation to the next, quite often with the diminutive Colin in tow.

At closing time I left the Oak the same time as Kerry, turning left from the entrance as she turned right. Seconds later Colin and fighty Pat left the pub and caught up with Kerry. I stood there thinking 'What the fuck should I do?' There was a real menace from the Irish Traveller, who clearly already despised me, I didn't know Colin well enough to predict his intentions either. Kerry was a friend, so with great reluctance and a sense of foreboding I decided to follow them.

Deliberating what was the right thing to do had delayed me a couple of minutes and when I got to the corner where Kerry would have turned, there was no sign of them. I walked along the side street and after fifty yards I looked up a darkened back alley and saw the silhouettes of all three of them, Pat's formidable bulk, little Colin and slightly matronly Kerry.

I caught up with them, Kerry and Colin seemed pleased to see me and fighty Pat was ambivalent.

We finished up in Kerry's party kitchen, and though I didn't have any more alcohol the drunken conversation between the three of them weaved around aimlessly. But every so often Pat would fly into a rage, usually directed at Colin, and sometimes at me. We would talk him down and the night would carry on. I desperately wanted to go home but couldn't leave this maniac with Kerry.

At some point Pat raged again, pulled off his shirt over his head in flamboyant fashion, exposing his fully flexed and massive shoulders and chest and threated to kill Colin, 'Just like I killed my brother!'

The long bad night was getting worse, and we talked him down again. He put his shirt back on and he settled down to more serious drinking until the next explosion ratcheted up from the last, the shirt flew off again dramatically and he grabbed some decorative knives from Kerry's cupboard, and again threated to kill Colin, pointing one of the knives at him within stabbing range.

Well no one got stabbed, thankfully, and we did calm him again, and then Kerry asked him to leave. Pat pleaded like a naughty schoolboy that he would behave if she let him stay, and she foolishly relented.

So we continued, and inevitably he raged again, this time at me and before I knew it, he had whipped his shirt off like a prize fighter in the movies. But instead of the posturing and threats he immediately set about me, bludgeoning the top of my head with several blows from both fists. With lots of yelling and glasses falling to smash on the floor Kerry and Colin leapt in between us. I did stand my ground, but to my masculine shame I didn't carry the fight back to the drunken lunatic.

Pat was successfully subdued and evicted by my hostess and protector.

After half an hour Kerry asked Colin to leave too, he didn't want to go, scared that Pat might be waiting for him outside.

I knew what Kerry wanted, and was pretty sure Colin understood too. With indifferent selfishness I sat quietly whilst she demanded he leave and with some trepidation akin to facing high noon he went into the night at around 4 am.

She wanted to go to my place so an hour after Colin had ventured into the darkness we emerged into the breaking dawn. The only time I ever made Kerry cum was that night. She liked to suck my tongue whilst being fucked slow and hard in the missionary position. She gripped the base of my cock beneath my balls with her hand as I pumped in and out and when the orgasm hit she bit down on my tongue. Not the best moment for me, yelping 'ow', instead of 'oh' until she loosened her jaws and I zipped my bite imprinted tongue in as fast as a lizard.

Then it was my turn, so I moved her around with her head next to the edge of the bed, and got above her so she could lick my balls as I stroked OG to a neck splattering climax. 'I always wanted a pearl necklace,' she joked.

Tired from a long night shift Jim got to his home later that morning to a kitchen in disarray with spilt drinks, smashed glasses, a broken photo frame and knives scattered across the floor. Well at least he didn't find any dead bodies.

Colin had got home safely and subsequently told me Pat had been in prison for violence, although he had no idea whether if he had ever stabbed let alone killed his brother. It was probably drunken fantasy used to intimidate us, well he successfully intimidated me. As it was, thankfully we saw no more of fighty Pat.

Jim later thanked me for looking out for Kerry. I liked Jim, getting involved with his wife was wrong, and proving dangerous from unexpected quarters.

I had to find another outlet.